Finally over the shits after the last week or so. To be honest, it had got to the point where shitting my pants was like blowing my nose – you don’t do it for fun but it’s just one of those things you have to deal with. So much of Mysore was passed in the hotel with only the best part of a day out of five spent out and about seeing the views.
But NEVER MIND! Shake yer coconuts at this:
http://flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=2102459929&size=m&context=set-72157603432…
That’s the lovely view from the balcony of the hotel we’re staying in which is set in a forest valley of thousand upon thousands of coconut trees, right next to the sea. We’re in Varkala now which is about as far South as you can go in India and it’s fantastic. It consists of about 2km of beach and across the clifftops a similar stretch of restaurants and bars. There is literally nothing to do here apart from get pissed and eat tasty food – none of this museum/temple bollocks for a while!
There’s also the guilty pleasure of there being no beggars for a 100 miles, perhaps even a thousand – there’s just no way of knowing. Perhaps the police keep them away. Maybe they’re allergic to coconuts, we just don’t know…
It’s absolutely roasting though – Israel was hot, Turkey in a heatweave was a bit on the warm side but this is something else. Put your clothes on and they’re stuck to you in seconds, walk outside and take a breath of air and it’s like popping a snorkel into your oven and breathing through it.
They’re very big on fish here and last night all the restaurants had their Marlin fish (the size of kitchens) laid out on ice at the shop front. We also saw what would best be described as an advertising-elephant which was bought past all the restaurants marketing some Indian orchestra which was performing later in the month. It had signs draped all over it, it was a pretty sorry state to be honest.
We’ve spent the first day here so far just wandering along the cliff edges eating and drinking. For lunch I’ve had potato and cheese momos in a corianda and mint dipping soup washed down with a mango and vanilla lassi. Mmmmm
Earlier in the day we had sat on the balcony swinging chairs reading and listening to music (we’ve picked up a pair of speakers). Weirdly, I can’t listen to Feist now without thinking of Gareth thinking of making soup whenever he hears Feist…
Anyway, cheers!
